The family sat behind the barn around the fire, celebrating their eldest child Skye's twelfth birthday.
She was a short, blond girl with pink eyes.
Two younger brothers drooled at the sight of sausages on sticks, gradmather told a story from the old days, her father was throwing trees on the fire, and her mother was just sitting smiling.
When it was late, everyone focused on Skye, and her mother motioned to her side.
As she approached, she removed the locket from around her neck, it was polished obsidian, very beautiful.
- Today you are twelve years old ... She said ... According to family tradition, this locket belongs to you ... She bent down and fastened it around Skye's neck, they whisper in her ear ... They say she can grant one wish. Do not waste it.
They didn't know it that, but it was the last joyful moment for most of them.